


The Refuge

by pinecovewoods



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, I did my best, again super long, also the reader is a newsie so she's got a newsie nickname, but i love this one a lot, but its kinda confusing so, for me at least, from the musical, i tried to stick to the timeline, plot twist she's not from brooklyn, specs is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecovewoods/pseuds/pinecovewoods
Summary: A knock on the glass jolts her awake, the girl immediately scowling at whoever decided to show up as soon as she was able to sleep. Her face melts into relief as her gaze lands on Jack, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she slides the panel up.





	The Refuge

She sits by the window, the light from the moon illuminating a tiny bit of the dark room as she watches the skyline. It be easy to just climb out and run like hell, if it weren't for her damned sprained ankle that she can't even put any pressure on without practically screaming in pain.

She leans her head on the concrete, trying to somehow find a few minutes of sleep without the firm mattress she had given to one of the sicker kids two days prior.

A knock on the glass jolts her awake, the girl immediately scowling at whoever decided to show up as soon as she was able to sleep. Her face melts into relief as her gaze lands on Jack, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she slides the panel up.

"Well if it ain't the Jack of all trades," she whispers teasingly, "whaddya doin' 'ere?"

"I's come up 'ere much as I can to give the kids some supplies," he replies, gesturing to the nearly empty basket next to him, "care to explain how Ace of Queens ended up in a Manhattan prison?"

"I was talkin' with Conlon 'bout some sellin' goin' on in neutral territory," she replies, "we's were walkin' on the bridge when the bulls showed, I took off in 'Hattan's direction 'fore Snyder caught me."

"So that's why Dodger showed up to our meetin' couple days ago," Jack nods, "he said you was on a visit to Harlem."

"Yeah well," she shrugs, leaning back slightly, "can't exactly 'ave the story that Queens has been left without its leader spreadin' 'round to the others. You 'n Spot might not have a problem with Dodger takin' over for the time bein' but if Ink figures out I'm gone it's gonna cause some issues. Hell, he's tried enough times when I'm there."

Jack nods, knowing the Bronx leader well enough to know that he would do anything for extra selling space, even kick out the newsies who had rights on the turf.

"How long you been in here?" Jack asks quietly.

"I figure 'bout a week," she replies, shaking her head a bit, "Snyder said he's keepin' me here for three months on loitering charges. Tried to leave but uh... my ankle's pretty messed up, can't barely walk on it let alone climb down three flights of stairs and make it all the way back to Queens."

"You's sleepin' on the ledge?" He asks, trying to look into the dark room. "Ain't you's gotta bunk or something?"

"Gave my space to a sick kid, she's had a fever for a couple days and I figured sleepin' on that sorry excuse for a mattress will be better than the floor in her condition," she shrugs, picking a piece of dirt out from under her finger nails.

"I get it, I'd do the same thing if I was in your position," Jack says, pulling a piece of bread and an apple out of his basket, "'ere, it ain't much, but it should help."

"Thanks cowboy," she nods, "listen I...I know it's a lot to ask, it's not that I don't think Dodger can handle 'imself and I knows you got a lot goin' on too but if you's could keep an eye on my kids," she pauses, eyes downcast, "I'd 'ppreciate it, 'n I'd owe you's one."

"Course I will," Jack replies, like it's a normal request, "I'll send Specs down to check in, they know each other right?"

"They was sellin' partners before Specs left for 'Hattan," she nods again, "thanks, really. Means a lot."

He smiles, bright and genuine and she swears it lights up the room.

"You'd do the same for me, Ace," he says, "I'll come back in'a day or two with some more supplies, keep those for yourself," he points to the bread and the apple, "you look like you ain't eaten in a week, getcha strength up, okay?"

"Okay," she smiles, grateful, "see ya 'round, Jackie boy."

True to his word, Jack's back at the window two days later with a basket full of food and another smile on his face.

He hands her the food and she passes it to the others in the room, heart lifting slightly at the light that returns to their eyes as she does.

"And this is for you," he smiles again, pushing a folded blanket through the gap, "since you's sleeping on the ledge 'n all."

She can't help the blush that rises to her cheeks, thankful for the darkness to hide it from the boy.

"Thanks, cowboy."

"Oh, also," he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, "from Dodger," he says, "Specs went and saw him yesterday. Tol' me that everythin' seemed t' be runnin' as smoothly as can be expected."

"Good, that's good."

Jack stays longer this time, the two them talking for almost an hour before he reluctantly says he needs to leave.

His visits become more frequent from then on, going from once every other week to twice a week, then every three days. It eventually gets to the point where she no longer goes a day without seeing the Manhattan boy sitting outside the window with a smile on his face.

He always asks how she's doing, and she always answers with fine. Until one day she doesn't.

"You doin' okay, Ace?"

"You's been in here before, right?"

Her voice is gentle, as if she's scared he's going to run away at her words. He doesn't

"Yeah, twice," he says softly, "Snyder ain't my biggest fan."

"How did you handle it?" She breathes, shaking her head. "'Cause I'm pretty sure this place is hell on earth 'n I knows I ain't got it nearly as bad as some'a these kids."

"My boys got me through it," he replies honestly, "Snyder um...he used'a take me to one'a the back rooms and, well, lets jus' say I came back with more than jus' some bruises. 'N I was one'a the lucky ones."

Impulsively, her hand reaches out and grabs his, her eyes staying trained on his face while the boy looks down at where they're now touching.

"But every time he left me alone I jus' kep' thinkin' of my boys," he says, looking back up at her, "of my family. And I realized I couldn't give up, 'cause they needed me. And you can't give up neither, aight? That ain't the Ace I know."

"I just," she sucks in a shaky breath, and Jack squeezes her hand to ground her, "I've been locked in this room for over a month, my ankle ain't much better. I just want to get out of this place, Jack."

It's the first time she's used his actual name - not some teasing nickname variation - and the desperate, gut wrenching tone of her words run through Jack like a chill in January, and he hates it. He hates Snyder and he hates the Refuge. He hates the bulls and he hates that they lock up kids for things they can't control. He hates that he can't come rescue all of them from the same darkness that's plagued his nightmares for years. He hates that he's spending more and more of his time and resources in Queens because he's kinda sorta maybe probably falling for their leader and-

He jolts back into reality at the sudden revelation, and only then does he notice that she's been talking the whole time.

"-and I feel awful for leaving my boys alone. I'm terrified that Ink's gonna find out I'm not 'round 'n I won't be there to protect my family 'cause I can't walk on my damn ankle an-"

"Hey hey hey," Jack cuts of her rambling with another squeeze to her hand, "that ain't gonna happen. Between me's 'n Spot we ain't gonna let nothin' happen to your kids, okay? 'Sides, you can't go loosing yourself now, aight? Your kids need you," he pauses, looking down as he rubs his thumb over her skin, "I need you."

"Jack..." she whispers, trailing off at the lack of thought running through her brain.

They sit like that for a stretch of time, hands connected through the gap and silence surrounding them coupled only with the breathing of some of the other kids already asleep. It's then that Ace realizes how late it's gotten.

"You should get goin," she says, making no movement to let go of his grasp, "can't have you's gettin' caught 'n tossed back in 'ere."

"Yeah, you's right," he says, eyes drifting from one spot to another, "look Ace I didn't mean t-"

She cuts him off by pressing her lips to his knuckles.

"I'll see you tomorrow, aight?" She says against his skin, smiling as he lets out a quiet bubble of laughter.

"Course you will," he replies, squeezing her hand one more time, "til tomorrow."

He slips silently down the fire escape, leaving the girl with a soft smile on her face and something more than desperation in her heart.

"Is he your beau?" A small voice asks from behind her, the same girl Ace had given her bunk to all those weeks ago.

"Somethin' like that," she says gently, ruffling the girls hair, "get some rest, Tiny, you needs it more than anyone."

When he kneels in front of the window the next night, she can sense that something's wrong. At first she thinks its about what happened the night before, but why would he be here if that was what was bothering him?

She starts the conversation first this time, resisting the urge to slip her hand into his.

"How's everythin' in 'Hattan?"

Jack shifts, now sitting criss crossed on the metal landing.

"We's goin' on strike," he says softly, looking down at his shoes, "Pulitzer raised the price of papes 'n we's fightin' it. Been visitin' some'a the other boroughs to try and scrounge up some reinforcements."

"What did Dodger say?"

"Said I should talk to you's 'n let 'im know what you say," Jack shrugs, "Brooklyn said no, though, so I ain't expectin' anythin' from you."

"Conlon said no?" She repeats, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jack. If I was out maybe I could but...bein' in 'ere...I can't expect nothin' from my kids without me's bein' there. 'Specially if Spot ain't comin' neither."

Jack nods, reaching and grasping her hand in his, a sad half smile on his face.

"No, I understand," he says, "I'd do the same if I was you."

She moves closer, practically hanging out of the window. It'd be so easy to just-

The feeling of her ankle sliding off of the ledge and hitting the ground pulls her back into reality, face contorting into discomfort regardless of how much she tries to hide it.

Jack notices, and worry fills his eyes.

"Has it gotten any better?"

She shrugs.

"Kinda, I's can walk from 'ere to the door without limpin' much," she explains, "but that's 'bout it."

"Try to stay offa it as much as possible," he says, "soon'a it's better than soon'a we's can get you's outta here."

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me for the time bein'," she says, "you's got bigger problems. I don't wanna see your ugly mug back in 'ere, ya hear me?"

It's a teasing tone, one that causes Jack to smile.

"Yeah yeah, I hear ya," he rolls his eyes, "listen, hypothetically, if Spot 'n the others decide to come help...whaddya want me t' tell Dodger?"

She's quiet, thinking as Jack's thumb rubs circles into the back of her hand.

"If Spot joins, we join," she finally says, not missing the flash of happiness in Jack's eyes, "tell Dodger that if he gets word of Conlon comin' to help then he needs to round up the older kids. But tell 'im to leave Sticks in charge of the young ones, she'll be able to keep them inside in case it goes south."

Jack nods, smiling bright and wide at her. He brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand.

"What was that for?"

"Nothin' jus'," he shrugs, "kinda forgot how you's look when you's bein' a leader. It looks good on you."

She's blushing again, and the full moon does nothing to conceal it. Jack notices, and it only makes him smile more.

"Look Jack I uh..." she swallows, looking down at their joined hands, "I's been thinkin' 'bout...whatever this is. I jus' need you t' tell me that this," she motions between the two of them, "ain't jus' because I'm locked up 'ere. Tell me that you ain't gonna pretend we don't know each other more than just professionally once I get out."

Jack's silent for a moment, and the girl can hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waits for his response.

"I ain't never been much for feelings or whatever," he starts, shaking his head as he drags his thumb over his bottom lip, "but I likes the way you's make me feel, Ace, 'n s'far as I's concerned this," he smiles, "this ain't endin' anytime soon."

"I would kiss you," she says, holding back a laugh at Jack's confused face, "but I don't want anymore good memories tied to this place. Rain check for when I get out, yeah?"

"Yeah, I can understand that," he nods, glancing up at the sky quickly, "it's late. I should get going."

"You's gotta strike to organize, cowboy," she teases.

"I'll see you tomorrow, aight?" He smiles, something hopeful in his eyes.

"Tomorrow," she agrees, "promise me you ain't gonna end up in 'ere."

"I promise."

The first Manhattan boy she sees the next day isn't Jack.

Sometime in the early morning the door to the room slams open, two bulls standing with a boy in the middle and Snyder behind them.

"Toss him in," he sneers, and the boy crumples to the floor after a rough shove by the cops, "you are never going to see the outside again, boy."

And with that, he pulls the door shut, the sound echoing through the room as the others hold their breath.

She moves, grateful that her ankle's better today than it's been in a while, and kneels next to the boy, helping him into a sitting position.

"Hey, you alright?" She asks, even though she knows the answer is no. "Anything broken?"

"Maybe a rib or two," the boy responds, closing his eyes as he struggles to breathe, "my eye's swellin' pretty bad. I'll live though."

"That's the spirit," she says, pushing a bit of his hair off of his forehead, "c'mon, lets get you up on'a top bunk, Snyder less likely t' mess with you's if you's up and away from everythin'."

The boy finally looks up at her, and even under the swelling and the bruising she can see his eyes widen.

"Ace?"

For a moment she thinks it's one of her boys, and her stomach drops into her feet. But as she looks at his blonde hair and his twisted leg, she realizes who he actually is, and this time her heart skips a beat.

"You're one'a Jack's boys," she whispers, searching her mind for the name, "Crutchie, right?"

"That's me," he tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace than anything else, "guess everythin' makes since now."

"Whaddya mean by that?" She asks as her and a few of the stronger boys help Crutchie stand, leading him slowly over to one of the top bunks.

"Jack's been spendin' an awful lotta time in Queens lately," Crutchie replies, stopping as he painfully hoists himself up onto the mattress, "says it was to try 'n find new recruits, but he never came back with anyones. Don't suppose you knows anything 'bout that?"

The girl takes a step backwards, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"He tol' me he was sending Specs every week," she says, "you means to say he's been goin' down there himself?"

"He took Specs once, 'bout a month 'n a half ago I think," Crutchie explains, "but since then it's jus' been him, once or twice a week I'd say."

She can't help the smile that spreads across her face, trying to cover it with her hand as she shakes her head.

"He's ridiculous," she mumbles, and this time Crutchie actually smiles.

"You sweet on 'im?" He asks.

"They's sweet on each other," Tiny calls from the other side of the room, "he's 'ere every night for least an hour or more, they just talk and talk and talk an-"

"Alright Tiny, enough," Ace cuts the rambling off, but her tone is teasing, "we don't wanna bore the new kid, do we?"

"Oh trust me, hearin' that Jack's gotta girl ain't borin'," he smirks.

Ace rolls her eyes, pulling herself up to sit next to him.

"In all seriousness," she says quietly, "what happened? Why's you in 'ere?"

"Jack told you's 'bout the strike?" He questions, continuing after she nods. "Well, we did it. And it went south almost as soon as it started. Weasel called in the bulls and the Delancey's cornered me. Snyder came and soaked me pretty good with my crutch and dragged me back 'ere."

"You don't think they got Jack, do you?" She asks softly.

"I don't think so," Crutchie replies, "I think I saw Finch pulling him offa one'a the thugs when Snyder came in. Jack knows not to risk it, he musta taken off. I don't blame 'im."

"If he's okay he should be 'ere tonight," she says, "he's usually here right before the sun sets but I...I can't promise anythin'."

"If he does show, will you give a letter to 'im?" Crutchie asks. "I'll write down some stuff, I don't think I should be gettin' offa this bunk anytime soon."

"Course I will," she replies, pushing herself down so she lands on her good ankle, "'ere, I got some paper and a pencil that I think is sharp enough."

Hours pass as Crutchie scribbles away on the paper, the girl tapping out an unsteady rhythm on the window sill as she waits for Jack to show. Once she sees the moon hit the skyline she can feel the hope leave her veins, that is until she hears a bang followed by a few curses from the fire escape.

She lifts the panel just as Jack reaches the landing, bruised knuckles and swollen jaw accompanying him.

"Oh god, Jack," she whispers, cupping the unbruised side of his face with her hand, "oh what did they do to you?"

"I got of betta then some'a the others," Jack replies, leaning into her a touch a bit, "you ain't happen t' 'ave heard of a boy named Crutchie gettin' tossed in 'ere, did you?"

"Yeah, gimme a sec, okay?"

At his nod she leaves the ledge, walking over to where Crutchie lies half asleep on the bunk.

"Hey Crutchie," she whispers, "Jack's here, he's bruised up but he's okay."

Crutchie smiles, pressing the paper into the girls hand.

"Tell 'im I'm okay," he says, "'n that I'll be outta here soon enough."

She nods, making her way back to the window. Jack looks at her with hope in his eyes, and then confusion as he notices she's alone.

"He's um...he's in 'ere. He's okay but," she shakes her head, "he makes me look like the picture of health. He'll be fine once he gets some rest, I put 'im up on the top bunk. Here," she hands him the paper, "he wrote this for you."

"He's okay though?" Jack has tears in his eyes.

"Yeah, he's okay," she nods, "I promise."

He takes her hand in his, kissing the top of her knuckles as he lets out a shaky breath.

"We's got stomped into the ground," he speaks quietly, eyes shut as if he's reliving the earlier day, "Weasel came afta us with everythin' he's got. I dunno why I's thought we's could do this," he shakes his head, looking at her intensely, "half my boys are laid up with broke bones all because of me and my stupid big mouth."

"Hey hey hey," she shushes him, squeezing his hand, "you did nothing wrong, you hear me? Nothing. You stood up for yourself, Jack Kelly, and that makes you more of a man than Pulitzer will ever be."

He stares at her, eyes sparkling under the moonlight.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he breathes, causing the girl to laugh a bit.

"You can if you want," she whispers, "I ain't gonna stop you."

Jack smiles, but he shakes his head.

"Nah," he replies, "I don't want us to look back on that memory 'n have it be tied to this godforsaken place." He places his hand on her cheek, stroking her skin softly. "Soon enough though, promise."

"Crutchie told me that it's been you goin' down to visit my kids all this time," she says, half a smile on her face, "you're an idiot, when I asked you to keep an eye on my kids I meant send a boy every week or so, not walk from Manhattan to Queens every other day."

Jack pulls back, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

"Oh my god," he groans, muffled by his hands, "I cannot believe he tol' you's that."

"S'okay," she laughs properly, something she hasn't done in a long time, "s'cute. Nice to know my kids are bein' taken care off by none other than Jack Kelly himself."

Jack smiles, and once again his hand is in hers.

"Don't suppose you'd be willin' t' come with me's tonight," he asks quietly, "finally get outta this hell hole?"

"Leave Crutchie?" She asks. "And the others? You've got enough goin' on without worryin' about breaking kids outta jail, Jack. Let yourself and the others heal up," she says, "and then ask me again."

"You's a real good leader, ya know that?" He asks with a smile. "I can't say no to you."

"Yeah well, didn't become queen of Queens just based offa my good looks."

The teens laugh, and for a moment everything feels normal. They end their conversation the same way they have since they started, a squeeze of the hand and the promise of tomorrow hanging in the air as she watches him slip down the fire escape.

For the first time in two months, Jack doesn't show up the next night.

She knows it's not good, and despite the pain that runs through her body she spends almost the entire day pacing back and forth in the tiny cell chewing relentlessly on her thumb nail. Crutchie watches, occasionally trying to calm her down, but with no such luck.

"He probably just got caught up in the strike stuff," Crutchie says, legs dangling over the side of the bunk, "you can't assume it's all bad news."

"He said he was gonna be 'ere," she says, "what if he got arrested? What if he's locked up somewhere in 'ere 'n we don't even know about it?"

"We woulda heard about it, you know that," Crutchie says, "the word woulda made its way around if Jack had been brought back. Hell it wouldn't surprise me if Snyder 'imself made the announcement."

"I shoulda went with him," she whispers to herself, collapsing back down onto the ledge

Jack doesn't show up again that night, and the little amount of sleep Ace is usually able to get doesn't come either.

She sits at the window again, staring out at the skyline for hours on end.

"He loves you, you know," Crutchie calls from across the bunk, "really. Even if he ain't said it yet. Ain't no way he'd risk comin' up here every night for two months if he didn't."

"We jus'...we get each other, ya know?" She shakes her head, leaning it on her fist as she continues to gaze out the window. "We's from the same world. 'N I don't even mean just bein' newsies. Bein' a leader," she pauses, shrugging, "tryna lead these kids - even on just a day to day basis - it's exhausting. 'N Jack understands that, I've never meet someone who understands me the way he does."

Crutchie shoots the girl a soft smile.

"You love him?"

"I think so."

It's going on late evening when the door to the cell swing open, causing every kid to shrink back into themselves.

"Alright kids," one of the officers say, "it's time to go."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ace finds herself speaking up, protective of the younger kids who had suffered enough of Snyder's abuses.

"Means you're all getting out," the other one says, "they're shutting down the Refuge."

"You's comin' with me?" Crutchie asks as he slides off of the bunk, gratefully accepting his crutch from one of the officers.

"Well I need some supplies if Imma make it all the way to Queens," she smiles, nodding, "lets get outta this hell hole."

They make it to Newsies Square just as the cheers are dying down. She hears a voice call for the officers in charge of bringing in Snyder, and before she knows it Crutchie is dragging her along to the center of the square.

"Heya boys!" He smiles, and it definitely rivals the shine of the sun. "Ya miss me?!"

Amongst the cheers and the greetings the girl doesn't notice Jack sneaking up behind her. Not until he spins her around with a smile on his face.

"Ace you're..." he shakes his head, just staring, "you're here, you're out."

"Yeah," she shrugs, smiling back at him, "figured it was about time I let Dodger outta the leadership responsibilities he ain't signed up for."

Jack laughs a bit, reaching up to cup her cheek gently.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't come these last few days," he says quietly, "I have a lot to catch you's up on but uh...it wasn't on purpose. I woulda be there if I coulda been."

"I know, Jack," she nods, placing her hand over his, "s'okay. I survived. I'm 'ere."

A smile takes over Jack's face, and amidst all of the chatter from the other newsies he picks her up and spins her around, nothing but happiness and joy in the air.

"This is probably the best day of my life," he says, "we's won the strike, Crutchie's back," he pauses, looking back down at her with sparkling eyes, "I think I love you."

She pulls his face down to hers, pressing their bodies together.

"I think I love you too," she mumbles against his skin right before they kiss.

The long awaited feeling of Jack's lips on hers makes everything that she's gone through the past two months worth it. Jack tilts her head up slightly, hands on her hips as hers tangle in his hair. They kiss for a while, trying to make up for all the times they felt like they should've done in the past.

"So what's this mean for us?" She asks breathlessly, foreheads pressed together. "For our boroughs?"

"Queens 'n Manhattan ain't never been rivals," Jack says.

"We ain't never been the best of friends neither," she laughs, "suppose we's gonna be workin' in harmony for now on, yeah?"

"Yeah I suppose so," Jack smiles, "I'm sorry, can I jus' kiss you again? I can't even think straight ri-"

Ace cuts the boy off by pressing her lips to his again, muffling a noise of surprise that bubbles up Jack's throat.

"I'm proud of you, cowboy. I love you."

"I love you too, Ace."


End file.
